Shoulder.  Shrug.  chapbook of poems, summer-autumn 2011

 


















Copyright

2012











































Shoulder.

Shrug.


















patrick birdener



















some soul selects the long-haul solitary walk along the freeway,
coughing and swallowing itself by the fields.  it is a sticky substance.
its doctor friend chuckles.






















*




















but wouldn’t it be sad,
if in all the world,
there was only one loner?





















*










she had
no need
of this
or that
and so she left,
without a word
or a wave
or a nod.
not a sigh,
not a sound.
not one sign that she cared.
not one meaningless gesture,
which somehow would’ve meant more
than all the years she’d spent in their company.





















*













you are sleeping, dreaming down your yesterday.
i stand invisibly in your dream.  it’s so nice
to have your brain to ricochet my silent screams.
i sense movement.
as you roll over in your bed i slip in close
and whisper.            you ignore it.
good.
i’m glad we have this understanding.
i really don’t owe you for tossing,
and you still don’t know me.






















*



















maybe if i stick one of these poems under my pillow
the poem fairy will pay me a visit,
and counting the 34 little cavities, deny me the dime
i’d dreamed it was worth.





















*


















maybe if i put these poems over your eyes
you’ll see me through them,
and walk away.

maybe.






















*






















how many poets have you forgiven in your time?






















*

“Don’t let other people tell you how to think,”









































said a man telling you how to think.

*




















said the sun to the moon, “you’re bright.”

said the moon to the cheese, “you’re wise.”






















*





































hey, where’s the car?

we’re in it.






















*



















maybe if i show you a blank page
you’ll write one of these poems on it.
you’ll show it to me, want my opinion,
and i’ll tell you over raw onion.






















*



















poor girl,
wants to wade into the pool
a rich boy drowns in,
and drown.






















*













we saw you in your prime,
when we were children.

we’ve known you while you’ve aged,
grown down just a little.

when you’re finally all washed away by the waves,
or utterly drowned,

we will be the splash just behind you.





















*





















wild wind blows.
rose bush wants to shake my hand.





















*

















my silent acedia
bleeds into the summer night.
i have taken a blade meant for you.

sirens in the distance.
it will heal.






















*




















no, it’s not a monster under your bed.
it’s one of my poems, crumpled up.
it’s a little too clean under here.






















*








so life’s a carousel and someone’s pulling on the plug.  so
have a cold one      hit the wall      cool your head.
no one cares what you’re doing tonight either.
tomorrow you’ll be dead.
no one knows what they’d write on your tombstone,
including you.

“Leave your heart at home unless it can sing.
Hang your pain at the gate.
Your shortcomings
can’t come along.
Entertaining demons praised.
Dragging demons raised and tossed.

Lost souls caressed by fellow lost souls.”






















*

i saw her shoot a few men from the back of a big car.
somehow the bright white seats remained completely clean.
then we both left the car to enter her house.
i met her little daughter while she reached into the fridge.
but when she offered me food, i had to leave.
she said she’d made some Klondike bars for me,
and i told myself, “that’s it.  it’s time to wake up now.”
but when i did, i wondered why.  i really
should have stayed asleep.  oh well, back to tossing and turning.

then i was with a woman i seemed to need to be with.
we needed a source of heat.
i believed my tea pot would radiate.
she found something else.
i started to brew some tea, but she screamed “NO!”
i guessed i wasn’t staying there too long.
then the starship Enterprise was calling me back.
i told Captain Picard I’d be right there.
then she asked me to come to bed with her,
“for just ten minutes.”
and that’s when i awoke.